Soup Kitchen
by TheRoseShadow21
Summary: "I just ruffled her hair, not knowing what to say when she was both right and wrong. I wanted her to stay innocent, despite everything." Oneshot, final-episode inspired. Rated T to be safe.


**Decided to write this after watching the last episode of Akame ga Kill, because even though I am an anime-only viewer, I've read spoilers, and so as far as I am concerned, the fact that Bols' wife and daughter were kept alive in the anime was THE BEST DECISION EVER. Nothing more needs to be said on that, or I might start ranting incoherently. **

**Anyway, I don't think the two of them were given names, so I called the little girl 'Merry' and his wife 'Hanna'. The names seemed fitting for reasons I really don't know. **

**I hope you enjoy this short one-shot, and please leave feedback!**

I didn't think that the world could ever be like this.

A lot has happened since Bols died, almost three months ago. A lot of it horrific-unrest, everywhere. The same unrest he was trying to stop, even though he knew that it may have actually been a good thing. But he was duty-bound to do so, and he carried out that duty, right until the end.

He wouldn't have wanted to leave Merry behind though. Merry was the apple of his eye. And mine, too. At barely 6 years old, leggy and energetic with a bright smile, she was a true innocent we had both done our best to shield her from the horrors of his job, and the world they lived in. She took his death badly-we both did. For many nights, she couldn't sleep, and would come and slip into our bed instead.

Meanwhile, the unrest grew in size. There was talk of the Revolutionary Army getting ready for their final battle against the state. Rumours of promises of a new, less corrupt city. It was something that Bols would have wanted, but at the same time he wouldn't have felt he was worthy of it. Merry had other opinions.

"If everything becomes good again, then Papa would definitely be helping, right?" she asked me once, frowning after overhearing one such rumour.

I just ruffled her hair, not knowing what to say when she was both right and wrong. I wanted her to stay innocent, despite everything.

The day after that was the day the army made their first move. Soon after that, the emperor fought back. As soon as we saw the first houses burning, we ran to our basement, and waited it out until a neighbour came knocking, checking for casualties. So very many casualties. I was just happy that it wasn't me-or Merry. That would have been worse.

But, as usual, Merry had another opinion.

"Mama, aren't those people hungry if they don't have houses?" she pointed across the street, where members of the public as well as the Revolutionary Army were rescuing those under the debris and carrying away bodies. Her eyes were wide, having never seen such destruction. She hid behind my legs, but all the same, she didn't flinch. Bols would have been proud of our brave little one.

"You might be right about that." I told her. And so, after some thought, I gathered some friends and we set up an outdoors soup kitchen. Merry helped, naturally. She didn't cook so much, as she was too young, but she was very helpful none the less. But she was more serious, and I worried. We had named her Merry because Bols had claimed that she'd smiled at him as a new-born.

"_She grinned at me, I swear, Hanna, she smiled!" _

"_Oh, don't be silly. She's a day old. But isn't she a cutie?"_

"_Of course she is. But she's laughing. Look, see?"_

I maintained that she wasn't, but her name came from that conversation all the same, and as she grew, she fitted that name more and more. Everyone said that she looked like me, but she had Bols hair and eye colour, and her smiles and laughter were all her own. So after he died, and everything happened and she became more melancholy, I found myself wondering if the sadness would ever end.

But I didn't need to worry. Because as time went by, as the city fixed itself and we continued our soup kitchen, she relaxed more. And one day, when I handed her a bowl of soup, she flashed her familiar smile at me. I smiled back, and then she rushed off to pass it to the little girl the soup had been made for. Then, instead of rushing straight back, she began to play with the girl. She did look to me for a moment, to check it was OK, but when I nodded at her, she just grinned, and continued her game. Just like any child.

And that is when I knew that things really were going to get better.


End file.
